“No!” roared Big John. “Cayn’t be, Niltci! They ain’t an Apache between hyar and the White River country. I’m a gosh-durned fool, I am, an’ proud of it—I’ve lost one of them ornery boys, an’ some one has shot my dawg—but ye cayn’t hand me that Apache stuff, nohow!”
“Apache!” reiterated Niltci, with more emphasis. He pointed to the blood grooves on the shaft in confirmation. All tribes make them in their own peculiar spiral lines.
“What in the world’s happened to Sid, then, John?” queried Scotty, his awed, scared face appearing in the circle of light.
“Search me, hombre!” grunted Big John. “You Blaze, ef you could only talk, now! But fellers, we gotto set down a-piece and figger this all out the best we kin. Sid ain’t back, but Blaze is; and with an arrer into him. What does it all mean? I told you I was a fool!” he vociferated.
“Ruler’s the answer, John,” said Scotty, as they all went back to the camp fire carrying Blaze between them. “We’ll put him on the back trail right off and then we’ll know something.”
“Good haid, li’l man!” agreed Big John. “I’d do it, to-night, only we jist cayn’t work them hosses over that lava in the dark.”
“Well, I’m going to, now!—on foot, too!” said Scotty truculently, his Scotch dander rising. “It’s only about three miles back to the crater where we shot the antelope and I left my canteen. We’ll walk. Suppose Sid followed our trail there and got ambushed by some wandering Yaquis? You know how they hate the Mexicans. All whites look alike to them.”
“Apache!” grunted Niltci stolidly.
“All right; Apache, then!” conceded Scotty. “Sid’s in trouble with Indians somehow, and Blaze managed to get away and get here, with that arrow in him. Niltci can stay here and look after him and the horses. As for me, I can’t get back any too quick!” declared Scotty, with the vibrant sympathy of youth in his tones. “Here, Ruler!”
“Hol’ on thar, Scotty! Yore fixin’ to miss three bull’s-eyes in a row, thar, son. Of co’se I’m goin’, ef you are; so we’ll sorter git organized, fust. Whar’s that rucksack? We-all mought be gone three days, an’ Sid he’ll mebbe want medicines an’ bandages. By rights I ought to take Niltci and leave you hyar, Scotty, seein’ as this is Injun doin’s.”